William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

“I don’t know. How long have you had me in this godforsaken backwater?”

Ben looked away. “Of course, it’s none of my business.”

“Of course.” A mischievous smile played on Christina’s lips. “Do you have a problem with this?”

“Of course not,” Ben said, not looking up. “Like I said-”

“Doug is a wonderful talker. Not at all what you’d expect. Really very charming. Sophisticated.”

“Sophisticated?”

“Oh, yes. You shouldn’t be such a snob, Ben. Just because people live in a small town, it doesn’t mean they’re hicks.”

“I never meant to suggest-”

“He is a bit homespun, to be sure. But that’s just his way. Honestly, he’s very well educated. Smart.”

“Is that right.”

“Oh yeah. And supremely self-confident.”

“That’s good, I guess. If you like that sort of thing.”

“And very masculine.”

“Do tell.”

She mock-trembled, as if shivers were racing up and down her spine. “Something about him just makes me go all aquiver.”

Ben gave her a long look. “You’re putting me on, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am, you dimwit!” She grinned from ear to ear.

“And may I ask why?”

“Because you’re so easy!” She reached forward and ruffled his hair. “Although in a way, that takes all the fun out of it. It’s like torturing a bunny rabbit.”

Ben waited a moment, until her laughter faded and the room grew quiet. “But you do like him, don’t you?”

She waited a long time before answering. “Anything wrong with that?”

“ ’Course not. I was just curious. Since we’re friends and all.”

“Oh. Right.” The tiny office fell silent and, for a protracted moment, strangely awkward.

Christina broke the silence. She turned toward the tall stack of exhibits waiting to be reviewed before the trial reconvened. “What say we start wading through those exhibits and figure out how we’re going to whip Granny’s butt in court tomorrow?”

Ben picked up his champagne flute. “I’ll drink to that.”

Granny Adams sashayed down the dark corridor listening to the rhythmic sound of her stiletto heels rat-a-tatting on the metal floor. She slowed her pace, preferring to let the man in the far room wait and wonder what lay in store for him.

Deputy Wagner had made all the arrangements as per her instructions. He may not have known what she was planning, but he was a dutiful soldier and he did as he was told. Just the sort of law enforcement officer Granny liked.

In her own good time, she reached the end of the gloomy corridor. There was one sentry posted outside the room, a uniform from the sheriff’s office. She’d seen him before, but she couldn’t possibly remember his name. Why should she? He was just an instrument, an extra ratchet wrench in her toolbox. And she couldn’t be expected to remember every hammer and nail, could she?

“You can go now,” she said to the sentry.

A worry line creased his forehead. “I’m not supposed to leave you alone with-”

“I can handle myself, Officer,” she said briskly. “Scram.”

The officer shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “No disrespect intended, ma’am, but Sheriff Allen told me-”

“I could eat Sheriff Allen for breakfast.” Granny inched forward, pressing herself against him, practically nose to nose. “And spit him out again before lunch. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I–I-I-”

“Who’s the boss around here, soldier?”

He mouthed a silent “You are.”

“I’m glad we both understand that. If I need you, I’ll call.” She pointed toward the door. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The officer turned quickly and scampered off down the corridor.

Granny smiled. There was nothing like a small but effective display of power to stimulate her juices. But now for the task at hand.

She was not looking forward to this. It was not something she particularly wanted to do. But the fact was, the trial was not going entirely the way she wanted. Granted, she still had many tricks up her sleeve, but she had to take precautions. She had to make sure this thing didn’t slip away from her.

She opened the door and stepped into the small interrogation room. The prisoner was already seated and handcuffed to the table. “Good evening, Mr. Geppi.”

Geppi lifted his head out of his arms. He had longish black hair that tumbled around his ears and shoulders. He appeared to be in his early thirties, maybe younger, and looked as if he hadn’t shaved for several days. “Nice of you to show up. I been waitin’ over an hour.”

“I was delayed.” She sat in the wooden chair at the opposite end of the table, pushed it back, and crossed her legs in a way she knew was bound to attract a little attention. “Want a cigarette?”

“No thanks. I don’t do tobacco.” His eyes flickered up and down. His lower lip twitched. “Mind tellin’ me what this is all about?”

“Mr. Geppi, I thought it might be mutually beneficial if you and I had a little chat. Do you know who I am?”

He shrugged. “The deputy said somethin’. Like you work in the D.A.’s office.”

She leaned forward, her full breasts just touching the table. “Mr. Geppi, I am the D.A.’s office.” She paused, allowing the words to sink in. “I am the one who makes the decisions. I am the one who decides who goes free and who goes to prison for life. I am the one who holds your future in the palm of my hand.”

“Is this a plea bargain? ’Cause if it’s a plea bargain, I wanna lawyer.”

“This is not a plea bargain.” She smiled, an absolutely terrifying smile. “This is just a social chat.”

He edged back as far as he could with the handcuffs fixing him to the table. “Look, this is makin’ me nervous. I don’t wanna do this, okay? I ain’t done anything.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Geppi.” She pulled a thin folder out of her soft leather briefcase. “You’ve been arrested for possession of an illegal narcotic, a dangerous designer drug that is creating tremendous concern and fear in this little community. Possession with intent to distribute.”

“Distribute? No way, lady.” He held up his hands. “I’m no pusher.”

“That’s not what my witnesses will say. They will identify you as a major supplier of this new drug, this scourge laying waste to the city’s youth. They’ll identify you as a major player, one with direct ties to the big boss man.”

“Have you totally lost it? That’s a crock.”

“Nonetheless, it’s what they’ll say. And you know what that means? It means you could get ten years in prison. Ten long years. And given the current climate of the community, I think you’ll serve every day of it.”

“There’s somethin’ wrong here,” Geppi insisted. Beads of sweat were popping out at his temples. “I didn’t do none of that. I don’t know any boss man. I was just looking for a good time. Bought myself a quick high. Someone’s framin’ me.”

Granny did not reply, but the strong arch of her eyebrow told Geppi everything he needed to know.

“You,” he whispered, his eyes widening. “You’re the one settin’ me up.”

She did not reply.

“Why? What is it you want?”

She leaned back in her chair, uncrossing then recrossing her magnificent legs. “Have you been enjoying your stay in the county jail, Mr. Geppi?”

He frowned. “It ain’t exactly the Holiday Inn.”

“It’ll seem like the Ritz compared to where you’re going next.” She paused, letting him think about the ramifications of that statement for a while. “How’s your cellmate?”

“Huh? What?” He didn’t follow.